What Happens on the Mile
by brit.brutal
Summary: Paul's niece works as secretary on E Block. She is terrorized by Percy. Does she relish his fate? Or can she help him slip out of his coma through the bitterness of hate?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The Green Mile does not belong to me. It's Stephen King's creation. This story is for my entertainment only. Well, it's for others' entertainment as well if they choose to read it.

**Author's Note:** My characters are based off the film because I've seen it more than I've read the book. Eleanor Pierce is my creation, along with the made up parts of the plot that follows the original one the best way I can.

**One.**

Some summer nights were sweltering. Sometimes it was too hot to sleep, just like tonight. The window of my bedroom was wide open and the sounds of nature filled my room. No air came through my window, only sounds. I watched the walls of my bedroom as the moonlight casted the shadows of trees upon them. The crickets sang in a chorus, in tune. A sporadic hoot from a lonely owl could also be heard. Though it broke the crickets' song, it did not mar the nightly symphony.

On average, it did not take much to lull me to sleep, and had this been any other night, I would have been out like a light. But tonight was the night before I started my first ever job as a secretary at the same place my favorite uncle worked: E Block on Cold Mountain Penitentiary. I was nervous. I wanted to do well on my first day and I was making myself sick with worry. The fact that I would be working on Death Row, typing up the stories of executions did nothing to settle the uneasiness and second thoughts that had crept into my mind. Would it be too much to handle? Would my co-workers really just see me as a silly little girl when that wasn't who I am anymore?

A small part inside of me wanted to chicken out and turn the job down. But my father's farming business wasn't doing so well because of the drought and my family desperately needed income. Uncle Paul, my mother's older brother, pulled some strings with the prison warden to help hire me. E Block never had a secretary before, despite the fact that every other block had one. Paul pled my case and helped me out. He really just wanted to help me to support myself that way I could move out of my parents' house so they would have one less child to worry about. There were millions of people without jobs because of the Great Depression we were in, and now my job would be my life whether I wanted it or not.

Tomorrow I would know for sure if I did.

I turned over in bed and watched the wind make the trees dance. Little air blew into the room. I closed my eyes as it gently whipped my face and gave me the comforting hope that tomorrow would be all right. It couldn't be too bad. Uncle Paul would protect me as he always did. I was sure of that. He would pick me up shortly after six in the morning. Sometimes, he would stop by anyway because he passed our house on his way to work. And now he would be stopping by to pick me up.

I tossed in my bed some more. I was nineteen years old. I was still living at my parents' house. I was unwed—worse, I was single—and I would be doing a woman's job in a man's world. My life never went the way I wanted it to. But I couldn't help it. I just had to take everything in stride and with good humor. And I did because I was thankful for the things I had and did not covet the things I did not have. I never sat and whined about my, "Oh, woe is me," story because there were more serious things to worry about in the world and I had faith that everything would turn out all right in the end. Because God wouldn't let it end badly.

He would end everyone's suffering soon.

"Tomorrow is another day, Eleanor," I told myself quietly and shut my eyes. Sleep would come. I would just have to be patient.

And patience was something I never ran out of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** Again, I do not own this. Belongs to Stephen King and so on and so forth.**

**Author's Note:**** Thanks to the people who have read this! **

**Two.**

I woke up in time to shower and dress in the uniform that Uncle Paul had brought by the night before. Just a white blouse, name tag, and navy dress pants. I had always been accustomed to skirts and dresses, so the pants all on their own were an experience themselves. I went downstairs of our two story, yet plain farmhouse to have a quick breakfast and found Paul down there, munching on some plain toast. Mom and Dad were having coffee and bid me farewell when Paul and I finished breakfast and went along our way to work.

In Paul's truck, he gave me a rundown of what to expect out on E Block. "We have two prisoners right now. Arlen Bitterbuck, who doesn't say much of anything. He'll be executed pretty soon and you'll have to type up the report for us. And the other one is Eduard Delacroix who is French, but can understand us well enough. We call him Del, and his date of execution isn't set yet. And we're supposed to be getting a new inmate today. I don't know anything about him, though."

"Okay. Easy to keep up with so far. What about the other guards? What are they like?" I always found it easy to get along with males rather than females. I was somewhat of a tomboy growing up so I supposed that had something to do with it. I didn't think I would have problems with my coworkers as opposed to other women.

"Oh, they're good old boys. There's Dean Stanton. About three years older than you, maybe more. He's been there almost eight months. He's married with two little girls. Then there's Harry Terwiliger, and he's an older fella. Nice enough, but a bit of a worrier. There's Brutal Howell. His name is Brutus, but we call him Brutal as a joke because he's this big man but he'd never hurt a fly. And then there's this little pest named Percy Wetmore. You'll learn soon enough to avoid him if you can. He is a thorn in everyone's side. He's hateful, he's mean, and he knows 'big people,' so he says. Well, he _is _the governor's nephew." He casted me a weary sideways glance. "Just keep your distance, Ellie. He's not a very nice young man."

Ellie was the pet name he had given me when I was a little girl and it just stuck. I didn't have a nickname for him; I just called him Paul without the 'Uncle' title. He drove on in silence, and I could tell that something was bothering him. I remember when I visited his house a while back and Aunt Jan telling me that something was wrong with Paul's waterworks and he wouldn't go see the doctor. But we kept it at that. I was just like Paul when it came to my body. If something was wrong with me, I wouldn't tell a soul and I wouldn't go to the doctor. I was just better off not knowing.

I was a firm believer in the phrase, "Ignorance is bliss."

Paul pulled into a parking lot behind a tall and grey building out by a fence where on the other side were prisoners. We got out of the truck, Paul carrying both our lunch pails. The prisoners came up to the fence and taunted Paul,

"Who's the new lady, Boss?"

"Yeah, Boss Edgecomb, you gonna throw her our way?"

Others chattered in agreement.

Paul threw them a venomous look and said in his quiet but deadly voice I'd only heard him use once before on my dad when they got into a heated argument, "You hold ya'll tongues or else ya'll be walkin the mile earlier than ya expected."

We walked a bit further until he had to unlock a heavy metal door and let me enter inside before him. Paul Edgecomb always let the ladies walk in front of him like a true gentleman. He always told me, "If a boy don't never let you walk in front of you, then you don't need to walk down the aisle with him."

The door shut and I braved myself up to look into the faces of the men standing side by side ahead of me. I guessed that was the proper way they greeted new members to E Block. There were only two men: a young man and a man close to Paul's age.

"Eleanor, this is Dean Stanton and Brutus Howell." Paul introduced me as I shook the men's hands.

"Nice to meet your acquaintance, ma'am," the young Dean said and bowed his head slightly.

"You, too, Mr. Stanton."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Eleanor," Brutus shook my hand gently—Paul was right about him—and continued, "Paul's told us a lot about you."

"Thank you, Mr. Howell."

He shook his head at the way I used his name so formally, "Make it Brutal, or Brutus at least. We like to be on a first name basis here."

"Well, call me Ellie. Uncle Paul does."

Dean nodded in approval, "And I don't wanna hear no more of that Mr. Stanton stuff. Makes me sound like a old man," he chuckled.

We all gave a brief laugh at that until Paul brought us back to work.

"Okay, well the new prisoner should be here soon."

Brutal pulled a golden pocket watch from his coat when Paul made the announcement.

Paul continued, "Ellie, I want you at the desk, Brute and Dean, you all take your positions." And then he went to the middle of the room and stood in a professional way.

Dean stood by the door and looked out every so often to check and see if the new prisoner was here. Brutal stood in front of the desk, and I sat in a somewhat comfortable chair.

"So is the guy being driven here, then?" I asked.

Brutal answered, "Yeah. Just like those other two." He nodded his head back to the cells. The prisoners were currently lying in bed. I assumed they were still asleep. I know I'd still be asleep if I didn't have a job. It was still a bit before eight in the morning.

"I see the car," Dean said after a while. Brutal went over beside the young man and looked out.

"Oh," Brute said softly. "You gotta see this guy. He's enormous."

"Can't be bigger than you," Paul joked. We all gave a light laugh. Brutal chuckled in good humor.

Then we heard distant yelling. I just thought it was the prisoners beyond the gate, but then again, I hadn't heard them earlier. Then I could hear more clearly what was being yelled,

"Dead man walking! We got a dead man walking here!"

"Jesus, please us! What the hell is that idiot yellin'?!" Paul demanded, a pained expression on his face.

Then the door was opened and a massive colored fellow was brought in, escorted by two men filed in. An older man walked in the back, and a younger man walked in the front, holding the chain on the prisoner's handcuffs and was still yelling his mantra,

"We got a dead man walking, here!"

"Percy!" Paul said sternly and the young man stopped shouting. Walked the colored man to his cell. Then Paul was in the cell and said to the same young man, "Percy why don't you go to the infirmary?"

"Uh uh. I wanna stay here,"

"Why don't you go?" Paul coaxed him.

"No, they got all the men they need."

"Percy, I don't care where you go, just get the hell off my block!"

Percy scoffed. "All right." Turned on his heel. Heard a prisoner chuckle at him, and hit the man with his bat. Broke the man's fingers by the sound of it.

"Percy, move your ass!" Brute yelled, earning his nickname at that moment.

Percy Wetmore turned to stare at the other men to give them what I assumed was a menacing look, then turned to the direction he had been walking in and saw me for the first time. I almost wanted to introduce myself, but heeded Paul's warning about the young man. Percy locked eyes with me and stared me down the whole time he made his way down my end of the Mile. His eyes were cold and full of unbridled hatred. His gaze sent a macabre chill down my spine.

He stopped in front of the desk briefly. The other guards were busy with the new prisoner. Was Percy crazy enough to hurt me, too? I felt the unfamiliar feeling of fear grip my stomach and I braced myself for what was coming.

He looked me up and down briefly, his look softening almost, and nodded his head. Shot the others a hateful glance that nobody saw, and left.

My heart thudded in my chest. I had never been so scared in all my life. I was in shock of what I had just witnessed. All I could do was watch the guards deal with the new prisoner. All I could hear were Del's cries of pain from a broken hand. And all I could think of was Percy Wetmore's scary, sadistic ways and wanted to run home, screaming in terror.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**** Again, I do not own this. Belongs to Stephen King and so on and so forth.**

**Author's Note:**** Thanks to the people who have read this! **

**Three.**

The men started their way back down the Mile. Paul nodded his head at me, a signal for me to follow. We went into the office and sat around. Paul was behind the desk, everyone else took a seat while Dean pulled Del's card to take him down to the infirmary. I could think about nothing but Percy's menacing stare. Paul was asking everybody's opinion on Coffey. They talked about how big he was and wondered if he was feeble minded.

"I believe so that he is," I finally spoke up and they all turned their attention to me. "He gave me the impression that he almost didn't know why he was put here."

"He deserves to fry for what he done," Harry said, handing Paul a notebook.

Paul set it aside and gave me a look for me to go on. I did.

"Well, I'm not advocating his actions, Mr. Terwilliger, I'm just sayin' that he prolly doesn't know he's done wrong."

"I agree with Eleanor," Brutal spoke up, "Seems like he doesn't belong here. But he _is _a murderer and we need to treat him as such."

I nodded and watched the men look at me. I didn't have anything else to say. Dean and Harry went on to take Del to the infirmary and Paul excused himself to step outdoors for awhile, leaving me alone with Brutus Howell.

"Paul's told us a lot about us," he brought up.

"Oh, yeah, like what?"

He stood and situated himself upon the desk. "Oh, about school and things like that. How you nearly made it as valedictorian. That's quite a feat."

"Yeah, well, I didn't get it, so," I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just another thing that could have been, you know."

"You should still be proud. Paul boasts about you just as much as he did his boy."

He was talking about my cousin Andrew who had gone off to an Ivy League to be a lawyer in a big city. "Andy's quite something himself."

Brutus nodded in approval. "I'd never met him, though. I'm sure he's a fine young man, just as you are a fine young woman."

"You hardly know me, Mr. Howell," I said playfully. "How are you so sure I'm not some lunatic that could kill you at any minute right now?"

He grinned and decided to play along with it, "Oh, yeah, now that you mention it. You probably _do _have the potential. Pitying prisoners and all." He tipped me a wink and stood. "I think I'll go check on them before you hit me over the head with a blunt object."

"You may just want to do so, Brutus."

I followed him out to the Mile, but took a seat behind the desk. I watched him walk the Mile and check into the cells, making sure the inmates were doing okay, asking if they needed anything. Brutal was probably the kindest stranger I'd ever met. Nothing at all like that Percy Wetmore, who just happened to walk back inside.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" He turned to look at me. "I asked you a question. You deaf?"

"I wasn't aware that another human was speaking to me, is all," I gave him a trying look, testing his patience.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "I didn't know it was so hard for a damn woman to answer a question. I guess your brain can't comprehend such a complex thing."

"If you want an answer so badly, why don't you go ask Brutus? He's just down there speaking to John Coffey."

"Who said I wanted an answer 'so badly'?" He shot Brutus a glance and in that hateful glance, I knew the true reason he didn't want to go down there. He was afraid of Brutal.

"You seemed so eager. But I must have mistaken it for nosiness."

"You think that just because Edgecomb is your uncle, you can say whatever you like to me. I have news for you. I know people. Big people."

"Well, you're such a little man I already assumed every person you know is big."

Did my ears deceive me or did I hear a faint chuckle from the other end of the Mile?

"We have a comedian," he had a nasty look on his face. "Just keep in mind that I know big people, Edgecomb."

"So do I: Brutal Howell and John Coffey. Biggest men I've ever met." I was trying my hardest to not laugh at him. "And it's not Edgecomb, it's Pierce. Eleanor Pierce."

He looked me up and down before saying, "Percy Wetmore."

The way he looked at me was as if he were sizing me up, almost as though he wanted to fight. Did he consider me a worthy adversary? But then again, what I gathered from what little I knew about Percy Wetmore, he considered everyone he came across as a worthy adversary. In his mind, the world was against him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**** Again, I do not own this. Belongs to Stephen King and so on and so forth.**

**Author's Note:**** Thanks to the people who have read this! Sorry it took so long to update. I started college this fall and I have had so much to do. Anyway, I hope this update pleases everyone and I hope to get more reviews! I also know that the new character who is going to be thrown into the mix is from another fandom. I thought that it fit so well that I just had to put him in here. It will all work out and everyone will see what I'm getting at before too long ********.**

**Four.**

A week went by and every time I found myself clocking in on E Block, there Percy Wetmore was harassing every fiber of my being out of me. Now, I am one of those women who try to be independent. I try to not cause a fuss or lean on a man too much because I do not want to be considered weak. I treated the situation with Percy the same way. I could handle it for the most part, mainly during the times that I was a bigger ass than he. I didn't like acting that way or treating people as such lowly things, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so to speak. I try not to cause fusses, like I said. But I do enjoy causing a scene every now and again.

At first, I didn't want the other boys to think that I was showing my true colours—that I was an ungrateful brat just like Percy. However, as the week wore thin (as did everybody's nerves) I think the other boys began to enjoy the fact that Percy got a taste of his own medicine every time he dished out something that he could not take the next time that it came back around to him. Percy went out of his way to mess with everyone; I went out of my way to mess with Percy. I couldn't say that I hated the man because I did not believe in harboring such drastic and dark feelings towards another person, but I did have a strong dislike for him. I had a feeling that the young man was an acquired taste that nobody had a slight or even peculiar fondness for.

"Pierce, why is it that you only take lunch with Howell and no one else?" the little twerp brought up Monday morning after Paul had stepped out to go see the warden about the execution of Arlen Bitterbuck that was scheduled for the evening. Harry was running late that morning and Dean was in the rest room at that moment, leaving Percy alone with Brutus and I.

I was sitting behind the desk that Bill occupied during the later or night shifts and Brutus was walking the Mile, making sure that the prisoners were doing fine, that they were as comfortable as they were allowed to be.

"For protection," I answered shortly after he finished his question.

"Protection," he stated dully. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it means exactly what it is supposed to mean, Percy. If I'm having lunch one day and you just happen to walk by, I can say whatever I please and you won't do a thing because Brutal is there."

"I don't understand why you are so dim witted as to believe that I am scared of the man," Percy's arrogant eyes added to the conceitedness of his words and it made me want to tackle him to the ground and beat some sense into him.

I did, though, get satisfaction when Brutus crept up behind him and inquired quietly, "Oh, really?"

Percy jumped out of the first layer of his skin, "Ya'll best watch ya'selves. Before I get every last one of you fired. You think you can pick on me, conspire against me, just because I'm the new boy."

I beat him to his next sentence, "Please, for the love of everyone in this room, do not mention the big people you know. Every time you open your mouth and repeat the same things about them, they sound so much smaller to me. Do they to you, Brutal?"

He leaned in to the desk, "Oh, yeah, they do. Smaller. Much like a," he searched for the perfect word to use in the correct and proper context. His surly countenance broke into a gratuitous smile when he came back, "Small like a mouse."

That day, like so many of the others went by so slowly. The only thing that set that day apart from the usual uneventful others was that someone was going to die before the night was over with. It was something I did not relish. It was something that I was not looking forward to.

There was a practice execution earlier in the afternoon. I remember sitting on an empty crate to act as an audience member because, as a secretary, I had no real purpose to take part in the 'ceremony,' I guess one could say. The boys went over a memorized script as Toot was acting a fool as prisoner. Percy had shut himself up in what Brutal called the Electrician's Box.

I thought that was clever.

But now was the real execution and I found myself in the front row because nobody else wanted to be there. I was dressed a bit nicer than usual because I was acting as a jury member of the prisoner's peers. What I remember the most from that night is that Arlen Bitterbuck was not dead after they flipped the switch the first time. They had to do it a second time. I didn't sleep so soundly that night.

There was a new prisoner in Bitterbuck's cell by the time I arrived the next morning. His name was Andrew Dufrense and he had been transferred to Block E of Louisiana's Cold Mountain Penitentiary from Maine's Shawshank State Prison.

Paul led me to the back office where the other officers were so we could discuss the new prisoner before Percy decided to show up for the day.

"So, have at it," Paul said.

"He's a banker who's in for murdering his wife and her lover," Dean said, looking over the file on the man. "Was sent here because the guards there found a small pickax in his cell during a random cell search. He claimed the miniature ax was for shaping rocks until they moved a poster of Rita Hayworth and found that he was trying to dig his way out through a wall. He'd only been there a couple of months so he hadn't made much progress. He fought and killed a guard as they struggled to get him moved from their prison to the police truck. Say he's lost his mind ever since he started doing time. He's been given the Death Sentence for killing three people."

"Why didn't they send him to another New England prison?" Paul asked, brow furrowed at the absurdity of such a long move.

"The warden up there is an old friend of Hal's," Brutus answered. "Said he owed the man a favor. Also, Dufrense was down here once on business and had a hit and run. Didn't hurt or kill anyone, except for a car. Apparently, we've had a warrant for his arrest for some time."

"He seems a nice enough fella," Harry brought up. "Tall as Brutus, maybe even a few inches taller, but as awkward as a teenager. Said less than Coffey did when _he_ was first brought in."

"Well, since you all seem to know so much about him, Eleanor and I will go have a look-see."

We walked the Mile alone and when we got to Bitterbuck's old cell, we found a dark haired man sitting on the edge of the cot with his head down and hands laced upon his lap."

"Andrew Dufrense?" Paul asked quietly and the man looked up, "We gonna have any trouble from you?"

Dufrense shook his head, his intense blue eyes wide with fear. He looked from Paul to me. He looked perplexed—I just assumed he'd never seen a woman working in a prison before.

"That's good to know, Mr. Dufrense. You ought to know that you have a fine first name there. It's what my wife and I named our own son. We ended up calling him Andy as he got older."

"That's what I go by, sir," Dufrense spoke up, but quieted quickly and looked back at his hands in his lap as soon as he had opened his mouth.

"We'll do well to remember that," I said and he looked back up at me. I gave what I thought was an encouraging smile. He just stared blankly at me with those harsh, yet hurt, blue eyes.


End file.
